


Imagine Ramsay Bolton & The Joker (Heath Ledger) fighting over you...

by Ramsay_Boltons_Muse



Category: Batman (Movies - Nolan), Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Dom/sub, F/M, Masochism, Movie: The Dark Knight (2008), Ramsay Bolton is His Own Warning, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sadism, Smut, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-23
Updated: 2020-04-08
Packaged: 2021-02-28 19:02:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23272162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ramsay_Boltons_Muse/pseuds/Ramsay_Boltons_Muse
Summary: I’m bringing Heath Ledger's Joker to Westeros! My two favorite villains in a smutty little multi-part imagine that ends in them fighting over The Reader.You are Cersei Lannister’s oldest daughter and have been betrothed to Ramsay Bolton, a match devised by your grandfather Tywin Lannister to secure the alliance between The Boltons (who are now The Wardens of the North) and the Capital.What happens when you throw in a chance encounter with J in the woods? Lots of violence, angst, fluff and smut that’s what!
Relationships: Joker/You, Ramsay Bolton & Reader, Ramsay Bolton & You, Ramsay Bolton/Original Female Character(s), Ramsay Bolton/Reader, Ramsay Bolton/You
Comments: 20
Kudos: 34





	1. Part 1

“Kneel.” Ramsay’s voice sliced through the still air.

The Dreadfort’s great hall was empty except for you and him, the handmaiden who had been ordered to fetch you having intelligently bolted out of the room the second she deposited you. 

Ramsay was seated behind the great table, shirtless, his toned and muscled build glinting in the moonlight spilling in from the large windows. You could see some blood spatter speckling across his chest. It wasn’t his blood. 

As much as you truly hated Ramsay for all the vile things you’d watched him do, you couldn’t deny the fact that some part of you found him downright handsome.

He was nonchalantly turning one of his many knives over and over in his hand. He shot a glance at you and stood up when you didn’t move right away. You flinched as his chair made a scraping noise against the floor as he pushed it away. 

Ramsay strode up to you so that you were only inches apart. “[Y/N], I told you to kneel. Now, get on your knees.” His eyes were a dangerous ice blue, daring you to disobey. 

You squared your shoulders defiantly. “You sent a handmaid to drag me out of bed after midnight and now you’re ordering me to kneel for some offense I don’t even know I’ve committed. I’m the King’s sister, Twin Lannister’s granddaughter, not to mention your betrothed. You can’t treat me like one of your whores.”

The slap across your face shocked you, but you had no time to recover as his hand shot out to grip your neck, squeezing.

“You’re really beginning to test my patience.” Ramsay growled. “I don’t care who you used to belong to, _princess_. You’re mine now.” His stare bore into you. “And after the wedding, you can be sure I’ll mark you so you don’t forget.” The corners of his mouth turned up into a slight smile at that last remark. 

You knew he was right. It didn’t matter who you were, not here, not in The North. Your infamous father, Robert Baratheon, was dead, and everyone with any sense knew that Tywin Lannister was running the kingdom while your fool of an older brother Joffrey was playing at being King. 

But Tywin was no fool. He likely knew what Ramsay Bolton was, but he arranged this dreadful marriage anyway, his only concern formally solidifying the bond between the capital and The North, the largest kingdom. With Roose Bolton named Warden of the North, and Ramsay his successor, it was the strategic choice.

Your mother had nearly killed your grandfather when she heard of his plans to marry her oldest daughter off to The Boltons. But alas, Tywin was the real source of power, and none of them had any choice. 

Ramsay squeezed your neck tighter and you began gasping for air, your hands reaching up to wrap around his forearm, trying to pull him off of you. 

“You think you’re a golden haired darling little thing don’t you.” Ramsay snickered. “Let me tell you a secret sweetling.” You began clawing at his arm, desperate for air. “Once we’re married, I won’t have to worry about keeping you _untarnished_ for the wedding.” 

You started to turn pale, the color draining out of your face. “So when you _misbehave_ , I won’t think twice. I’ll drag you into the dungeons and fasten your wrists and ankles to the cross. I’ll strip you naked and cut and flay you any way I like. I’ll fuck you until you bleed and keep you chained up for days without food or water if I want to because **_you’ll be my property_**. So you had better adjust your attitude.”

Ramsay released your neck only to grab your chin hard enough to leave a bruise, jerking your face up to his while your starved lungs desperately refilled themselves with air. 

“Now kneel. I hate asking a second time.” Ramsay’s voice was laden with venom and your eyes grew wide, unable to move from the shock of what just happened. 

Ramsay had certainly toyed with you in the last month since you arrived at The Dreadfort, and you had seen his handiwork on the many flayed bodies decorating the outer walls, but he had not touched you until now. Your own naivete had led you to believe he would keep his sadistic predilections to pretty young whores and unfortunate serving girls. Evidently, you were wrong.

Ramsay sighed, clearly annoyed at your inability to immediately comply with his demand. You started to panic as he walked around behind you only to roughly push you to your knees, your bare legs underneath your barely-opaque white nightgown hitting the floor hard.

“That’s better.” Ramsay circled back around to your front and crouched down in front of you. He reached out to almost tenderly caress your cheek, causing you to flinch and him to smile at your reaction. “Do you know why you’re being punished little rabbit?” You shook your head, your big green eyes staring up fearfully at him. 

“No? Well.” He drew his hand away from you, a malicious smirk spreading slowly across his face. You knew if he was excited about something, it couldn’t possibly spell anything good for you.“You haven’t been the most doting bride to be darling, now have you.” 

His face twisted into a mock frown. “You haven’t once come to see me in my bedchambers. It’s made me concerned for the future of our marriage.” His eyes were laughing at you, enjoying this little game of torment, knowing full well you weren’t supposed to have any intimate relations with him until after the wedding.

Your words came out in a quick rush, desperate to explain yourself lest he decide to hurt you. “I’m supposed to stay a virgin until the bedding ceremony!” Your voice came out sounding so much smaller than before. Ramsay heard it too, and smiled.

“There there [Y/N].” He mused, giving your head a pat and causing you to flinch at his touch. “It’s not your fault that the ladies of King’s Landing didn’t properly train you on your _responsibilities_.” 

He grabbed your chin roughly, running his thumb over your bottom lip before popping it into your mouth. He tasted like the forest and something, almost metallic. “There are many things that _good girls_ should do before the bedding ceremony. You don’t need to worry though. I’ll teach you.”

Ramsay stood up then, your gaze following him upward to where he towered above you, a sizable bulge noticeable through his pants. He began unfastening his belt and loosening his pants to reveal, well, you had never seen one before, but you could only imagine it was…

“Never seen one before sweetling? That’s rather _adorable_ , even for you.” Ramsay grabbed one of your delicate hands and moved it toward his cock. You knew you had nothing to compare this to, but you had to admit that it looked _giant_. You had no idea how that was expected to fit inside you. You trembled at the thought.

Ramsay guided your hand to start stroking up and down his length. He watched your wide eyed expression greedily as you began to get the rhythm. Ramsay released your hand only to grab a bundle of your hair and pull it harshly, forcing you to look up at him. 

“You can do better than that pet. Open up.” Intuitively, you knew what was expected of you, Ramsay’s stare telling you everything you needed to know. You parted your lips and began tenderly licking the tip of his cock, then flattening your tongue and drawing it from tip to base. You heard Ramsay’s breathing hitch and looked up at him, towering above you like a dark god.

“Like that Ramsay?” You asked almost shyly, blushing. 

Ramsay responded by pulling your hair again, eliciting a small yelp from you.

“‘Like that _**Sir**_ ’. Mind your manners pet. And you’ll have to try a lot harder than that to impress me.” With that, Ramsay grabbed the back of your head and shoved it down the entirety of his length, causing you to gag and lose your breath completely. Your hands grabbed onto his legs to steady yourself as he held you in place, his cock hitting the back of your throat.

He released your head and pulled out, only to slam back into you again, tears starting to prick in the corners of your eyes. All this time and you hadn’t once thought about the chance that someone might walk in on this scene in the middle of the great hall. Then again, it was the middle of the night and you had a suspicion that Ramsay wouldn’t care if someone did. The low growl of his voice took you out of your thoughts.

“Good girl.” He praised you, and you felt an unexpected little ball of warmth inside you, causing you to shift slightly on your knees. You started bobbing your head and stroking his length in time, eager for more praise. 

Ramsay didn’t let you keep control though. He thrust his hips forward, pushing himself down your throat with a tight grip on your head, securely keeping you in place. You heard his breathing hitch again as his fingers dug into your skull, your own breath taken away by the sheer size of him. With a final push, he let out a low growl and came down your throat, holding you in place until the last of the come had drained out of him. You could feel it dripping down the back of your throat as he pulled out of your mouth.

“Very good girl.” Your doe eyes smiled up at him. You couldn’t understand why, but the feeling of him violating you in this way was so arousing. Perhaps all your embroidery and dancing lessons hadn’t been enough for you in the Capital. Perhaps you had grown bored over the years, but ignored it. This though, Ramsay and his complete control over you, was new. And you wanted more of it.

Ramsay pulled you up to your feet roughly. “You look quite pretty with my cock in your mouth pet.” A small smile spread across your features. You really were a beauty, and Ramsay knew it. 

He would never say it to you, but he never imagined he would marry such highborn royalty, not to mention one of the most beautiful royals in Westeros. Many lords had been vying for you, but The Boltons had ensured they won the bid. There were so many things he was going to do to you. 

“I expect to see you in my chambers tomorrow evening darling. Don’t disappoint me.”

“Yes, Sir.” 

Ramsay’s cock twitched at that, your voice intoxicating to him. He grabbed a bundle of your hair and pulled you into him, his lips inches from yours.

“That’s my good little girl. You’re mine now [Y/N]. Only mine.” 

****

You had decided to go for a ride. It was an absolutely beautiful Summer day, and a particularly warm one, especially for The North. You felt no need to bring a guard with you as every person in this part of the country knew who you were and knew who you were betrothed to. No one would dare so much as look at you for fear of what Ramsay Bolton would do.

You were riding through the familiar forests surrounding The Dreadfort, smiling at the sounds of the birds in the trees and the shady brooks babbling away. It was hard to remember that Ramsay used these same woods to hunt women. 

You had ridden for maybe an hour when you decided it would be a good time to stop and eat the small lunch you had brought with you. You dismounted Blanche, a stunningly beautiful white mare that Ramsay had given you as an engagement gift, and tied her up. You patted her neck and she whinnied sweetly at you, making you smile. It really was a lovely --

A strange noise drew your attention to a grove of trees not far off. Grabbing your knife, another, less public, gift from Ramsay, you silently approached the clearing. 

It sounded like someone was dragging something heavy. As you got closer, you found a large enough tree to conceal you and peaked out from behind it to get a look at where the noise was coming from.

A tall man, very muscular with tanned skin was dragging what looked like several dead bodies into a large pile in the clearing. You took a gamble, and darted from your tree to one even closer to see better. 

They were definitely dead bodies, all men, and all with various torturous wounds ranging from mutilations to stabbings to what looked like skin peeled off with a potato peeler. You had seen plenty of flayed humans thanks to Ramsay, but this wasn’t his handiwork, this was a different signature.

As the man deposited the last body on the pile, he ran his hand through his hair and turned to rummage through his things, producing a flask and taking large swigs of water. He then poured some straight over his hair and shook his head vigorously, the water droplets flying everywhere and his voice letting out an almost maniac scream that made you jump.

He was quite handsome. You watched as he pulled his light leather armor off to reveal his shirtless chest. His clothes were finely made, but in the most bizarre purple and green colors. You had never seen anyone dressed like that before.

And he had beautiful tousled blonde hair, a rarity in The North, and a tall powerful build, his clearly defined muscles visibly bulging as he ran his hand through his hair again. But what was interesting, what you couldn’t stop staring at, were the scars on his face.

You’d seen many scars since you’d come to The Dreadfort, but you had never seen any like this. The strange scars ran like an upturned smile from both corners of his mouth to his structured cheekbones. You wondered what could have done something like that.

You froze as his voice, a somehow simultaneously frightening and soothing sound, rang out.

“Say, uh, _sweetheart_. Why don’t you come out into the light.” Swallowing hard as adrenaline shot through you, you stepped from behind the tree and into the grove.

The man leaned back against a tree, taking in the sight of you with his dark eyes. You were wearing a simple light blue dress with a questionably low neckline, revealing your pretty young body delightfully. Your long golden hair was cascading in curls down your back and your green eyes were shyly darting away from his stare.

“ _Mmm_. Lovely.” The man hummed, looking at you. “And why is it that such a, uh, _innocent_ young thing is out all alone in the woods?” 

You looked at the ground as you answered, not sure why he was making you so nervous. Maybe it was from fear that Ramsay would punish you later for speaking to another man, maybe for fear of the man himself. You weren’t sure.

“It’s just a nice day, I thought I’d go riding. Anyway, I’m not _innocent,_ and it’s perfectly safe for me to go out alone. I’m Robert Baratheon’s daughter, and promised to Ramsay Bolton. No one would dare touch me. Who are you?”

The man laughed then, an almost maniac laugh as he stood, and sauntered over to you. “You’re a, uh, p-r-in-c-ess then? Is that right sweetheart?” He closed in, circling around you. For some reason you found yourself frozen in place. 

Suddenly he was behind you, placing his large hands over your exposed collar bone and drumming his fingers against you. He leaned into your ear, his lips nearly brushing your exposed neck.

“My name is The Joker, but _you_ can call me J sweetheart.” He licked his lips. “And why is a princess afraid of someone like me, hmm?” He stepped back and walked around to face you again, his forehead wrinkling in a feigned pout. 

You straightened up. “I’m not afraid of you.” You hoped your voice was coming out more sure than you felt. “Anyway I don’t even know who you are. I don’t think you’re from here, and I wouldn’t have any problem demanding someone from the Bolton guard take your head.” You stood taller, feeling the confidence build. “In fact, I’d take your head myself.”

J chuckled and his eyes gleamed. “You have a little fight in you, I like that.” He leaned into you. “I’m not sure if all the, uh, _princesses_ in Westeros are as dumb as you bunny, but having a famous name is exactly the reason NOT to go out riding alone in the _**big bad woods**_.” He drawled out the last three words in a much deeper voice, sending shivers down your spine.

“What did these men do?” You tried desperately to get control back of this conversation, but something about his way of speaking made logical thoughts difficult. 

J’s eyes widened. “Do? Do?!” He laughed suddenly loudly and maniacally, his black eyes filling with some combination of mirth and insanity. “Oh bunny, they didn’t _do_ anything. I, uh,” J leaned closer to you, as if telling you a secret. “I killed them for f-u-n _\- ah_.”

“You’re just like Ramsay.” You blurt out. 

“Ramsay?” J stepped back, turning on his heel and walking away from you over to the pile of bodies. He threw up his hands and shouted. “Ramsay, Ramsay, Ramsay, Ramsay, Ramsay _-ah_. You can’t walk one mile, one fucking mile in this place without hearing that name.” You watched as he lit the bodies on fire, your breath speeding up a little.

He turned back to you, closing the distance in large strides. 

“I’ve been thinking, with all this talk about Ramsay Bolton, that I oughta meet the guy. See if he lives up to his, uh, _reputation_. Whatdya say sweetheart? Wanna be my bate? Good.” He said without skipping a beat. “I thought you might.”

“He’s going to kill you. He’ll flay you living if you even lay a hand --” J cut you off by roughly grabbing your arms and backing you into the tree behind you.

“Bunny, bunny, bunny. You really wanna play those games?” He grabbed your wrists with one hand, twisting them painfully and raising them above your head. “Look at you.” He growled. “You’re even lying to yourself. You’re not even trying to fight me.”

Shocked at this self discovery, you noted that he was right. You hadn’t even struggled against him.

“I don’t think your Lord Flay knows what he has. And if he does, he’s not using it _tt_. I knew from the second I saw you sweetheart that you’re an agent of chaos too. Like me.” J ever so gently nipped your ear. “You’re just, how should I put this, _untapped_. I can always tell the squealers from the killers, and you doll, you have a little darkness in you. Don’t let it, uh, go to waste.”

You didn’t know what to say, staring open-mouthed at this strange man who somehow had read you completely in the span of one conversation, better than you read yourself. Subconsciously, you had a feeling that Ramsay knew this about you too. But why he had let it sit dormant instead of bringing you into his dark world, you didn’t know.

“Speechless? I’m flattered.” J spun you around and yanked your arms behind your back, securely fastening them with a tight rope. 

He spun you back to face him and flashed a smile at you. It was a different kind of smile than Ramsay’s, but laden with just as much danger. “It’s for show doll, don’t get too, uh, worked up.” His eyes flicked from your eyes to your body and he licked his lips, running a hand through his blonde lochs again before grabbing your waist and throwing you over his shoulder.

As he carried you into the woods, his voice came out menacingly dark.

“Time for The Joker and Ramsay Bolton to play.” 


	2. Part 2

You were having a nightmare. You knew it too, knew that you were in a dream, but you couldn’t wake yourself up. Instead, you were forced to experience the horror, frozen while completely conscious and made to endure the mentally induced physical pain and fear in terrible waves.

You were strapped to the cross deep in The Dreadfort dungeons, a hooded man standing before your naked body and making incision after incision, causing warm wet rivulets of blood to drip down your skinny frame. You couldn’t see his face.

You felt the temperature of the blood as if it were really real, and the precise sting of the sharp blade each time it cut into your skin. You didn’t scream though, steeling yourself against the onslaught of pain as he nicked your arms, thighs and chest with the knife. 

The man didn’t make any sound, but you could tell from his body language that he was frustrated at your lack of reaction. The next incision he made was to your little finger, and it was far deeper than the ones before. You managed not to cry out, until suddenly he grasped the skin and started peeling it away from the muscle causing you to emit a blood curdling scream. 

As your voice hit notes you didn’t know were possible, he was suddenly leaning into your neck and you could hear his voice cool and clear resounding in your ears and vibrating through your entire body. The voice was unmistakably Ramsay’s. 

“I told you, you were  **_mine_ ** .” 

Panting and soaked in a cold sweat, you woke up in near complete darkness to the sound of your own voice still screaming. Frantically, you swept your eyes around your surroundings and made a move to sit up before realizing that your hands were completely bound. 

With difficulty, you managed to shift from lying down into a sitting position as your eyes combed through the blackness around you, making out the dark shadows of four walls and a roof above. You were clearly in a small hut of some sort, though you couldn’t remember how you got here.

Trying to steady your breathing, your heart still beating out of your chest from the dream, you continued your visual sweep, squinting as you tried to make out shapes in the darkness. You realized you were sitting on a small mattress thrown directly on top of a hard dirt floor. 

It began slowly coming back to you.

\-- 

J hadn’t hauled you off more than 100 feet before reality hit you full force and you started kicking and screaming bloody murder for him to put you down. You still had no idea why your defensive forces had just given out upon initially meeting this strange man. You chalked it up to shock. You certainly had never had an interaction with anyone like J, especially not a commoner. 

When you hadn’t obeyed his command of ‘zip it dollface’, he had dropped you to the ground and landed a decisive blow to your head that knocked you unconscious immediately. Apparently, he had carried you off to wherever this shack was.

\--

Suddenly, as if forming themselves out the darkness itself, you saw two obsidian eyes staring intently at you. You felt your heart rate pick up again. The eyes seemed blacker than the darkness itself. 

As your vision adjusted, a silhouette around those two eyes started to take shape of a man sitting upright and leaning against the wall directly opposite you, his head tilted back and observing you with a keen interest. You swallowed.

“Hello?” Your voice came out huffed and frightened.

“ **Hello** .” The voice that answered you was menacingly deep and absolutely terrifying. It sounded like what you imagined a black dragon would sound like if it spoke, or a fire demon from somewhere deep deep beneath the ground.

You heard the sound of flint hitting rock and braced your eyes for light. When the fire appeared, it was inside a small lantern that immediately illuminated the room in a warm glow, casting long dark shadows on the walls and lighting up the somehow equally handsome and terrifying face staring at you. You yelped. 

“It’s, uh, only me  _ doll _ .” His voice shifted to take on a gravely, almost nasal, edge. It shocked you how easily it could change. 

J stood and walked the few feet over to the mattress, carrying the lantern with him and setting it down in the center of the room. He proceeded to sit down on the edge of the mattress, causing you to pull your legs into your chest in an attempt to create more distance between you and your captor. 

He didn’t seem to notice, staring intently into the lantern which illuminated his black eyes as they caught the reflection of the licking flames. In a split second, he snapped his gaze onto you. 

“Had a bad dream- _ ah _ ?” J considered you with his dark eyes. 

“Tell me,” His hand shot out and he was upon you, closing the space between your two bodies in a matter of a second and causing you to cry out in surprise. He grabbed your chin turning your head side to side and regarding your expression as a devious smile spread across his face. 

“What do a, uh,  **_princess’s_ ** nightmares look like?” He let out a sharp laugh in your face and stood up, apparently no longer interested in you. It bothered you that he went from focusing on you as if you were seemingly the only thing in the universe to ignoring you completely. 

You got the sense J got bored easily. And you  _ refused  _ to be considered boring. Your voice came out quiet but steady.

“I dreamt I was being flayed living.” 

J turned on his heel and swung his body back down to crouch beside you, pushing his hair back with his hand, his voice low. 

“Well, uh, sweetheart- _ ah _ , that’s not very original. You know, with your, uh,  _ engagement _ to Lord Flay- _ ah _ .” 

You looked him coolly in the eyes. Here it was again. This strange confidence. A sudden desire to push the confines of your current predicament, to do something risky. You had no actual idea who this man was, but you couldn’t deny that being around him made you want to do something rebellious.  _ Be _ something rebellious. 

If you were smart, you would be quiet and play along with his rules. If you were smart, you would wait patiently for Ramsay to show up and kill him, likely in some horrific way. If you were smart… But J didn’t make you want to be smart. He made you want to be something else entirely.

“Being flayed isn’t what scared me.” Your voice came out confident. “It’s that I liked it.” 

J leaned back from you, regarding you almost clinically, his eyes devouring every part of your body and facial expressions. He seemed to be calculating something very carefully, looking for discrepancies.

“ _ Hmmm _ .” He hummed.

****

Ramsay was furious. 

He was standing around the table in the Great Hall with Roose and 10 of the Bolton guard, gathered to discuss the next course of action. The icy fire in his eyes alone could have skinned something alive.

Someone had taken what was his. The question was, who had the audacity to steal from him. 

When you hadn’t returned that evening, he immediately suspected outside interference, knowing there was absolutely no chance you would have left The Dreadfort of your own accord.

He was that certain of his power over you.

And he was right. You wouldn’t have. Ramsay had you lock and key under his control, building his complete dominance over you with every little interaction. You knew you belonged to him. And yet, unbeknownst to him, you were currently under the influence of a very different kind of power. 

Equally strong, the powers of lawful evil and chaotic evil were pulling at your core. 

“You let her go into the woods alone.” Roose’s cold voice sliced through the air. 

Ramsay met his eyes. 

“No one would dare touch her.” 

Roose moved closer to stand in front of Ramsay. The room was silent as he spoke. 

“You’re over-confident about your position.” He paused. “To many of the men outside these walls, you’re still just a bastard.” 

Ramsay’s hands clenched into fists, but he said nothing in response. Roose regarded him cooly, reading what was in his eyes. “You want to release the hounds.”

Ramsay straightened up. “My hounds  _ will  _ find her, Father, and the fool who took her. I’ll bring him back and make an example of him for all the North to see.”

Roose looked him over, considering.

“No.” Vivid anger flashed in Ramsay’s eyes as Roose spoke. “I can see now how foolish I was to give you the Lannister girl. I clearly should have taken the opportunity myself, seeing how you’ve squandered it so senselessly.”

Ramsay’s fists clenched tighter.

“I’ll go after her myself. And when we return, I’m going to reconsider your position. Perhaps a change of engagement is in order.”

It happened in the span of a second. 

Ramsay drove the blade of his dagger deep into Roose’s chest. The Bolton guard standing around the table made to step forward and aid their dying Lord, but one look at Ramsay’s eyes had them frozen in place.

“No, no, no. That won’t do, Father.” Ramsay gripped Roose’s shoulder as he twisted the blade deeper. “I have grand plans for House Bolton. For  _ my _ house.” Ramsay withdrew the blade, Roose immediately falling to the ground, bleeding out. 

“You murdered Lord Bolton!” Regaining his confidence, one of the guards ran at Ramsay, only to be met with a dagger straight through his eye, crumpling to the ground. 

Ramsay stepped back, spreading his arms wide, a dagger in each. 

“Does anyone else have anything to say?” Some of the guards looked at Ramsay with a burning hatred, but their expressions began to change rather quickly as they made out the shapes of Skinner, Damon, Grunt and Allyn approaching the center of the room from out of the shadows. 

“Nice of you to make an appearance boys!” Ramsay’s signature sadistic grin spread wickedly across his face as The Bastard’s Boys surrounded the guards.

Damon, a tall broad shouldered brunette famous for his love of whipping things, and Ramsay’s right hand man, stepped to stand beside him. He crossed his muscular arms and looked at the guards.“Men, show some respect. This is Lord Bolton now.” Damon grinned. 

The Bastards Boys plunged their knives into the few guards who still looked shaken over Roose’s death, killing any who would even think of opposing the new Lord Bolton. 

The remaining five guards latched their eyes onto Ramsay, who stood at the head of the table now, looking every inch like a dark and terrible god. One guard stepped forward and spoke.

“What would you command Lord Bolton?”

Ramsay smirked, his bright blue eyes lighting up maliciously. 

“Release the hounds.”


	3. Part 3

“C’mere.” J’s hand shot out and wrapped around the back of your neck, jerking your head forward. He was staring into your eyes, which you knew must be displaying a convoluted mixture of fear, resolve and uncertainty. 

You tried to read the expression in his eyes, but to no avail. Whereas Ramsay’s eyes so delightfully displayed the sadistic malice, carnal hunger and mirth that went along with most of his games, J’s eyes were utter blackness that gave no tell of what he might be thinking. His gaze was dark and primal, not unlike that of a lion.

J’s thumb kneaded your vulnerable neck in small circles, and you were left feeling that he really was a lion. As the quiet tension-ladden stillness made the air heavy, it seemed like he was debating whether or not he would attack his prey. Attack  _ you _ . 

The feeling of his large hand wrapping around your neck sent shivers down your spine as you realized how very easy it would be for him to snap your neck. But much as the thought terrified you, the gentle yet steady pressure of his thumb circling around and around your skin sent a little ball of warmth spinning through you. You tried to push it away. 

His thoughts seemingly coming to some kind to some sort of conclusion, though you hadn’t the faintest idea what that conclusion was, J’s hand moved to grip your arm and roughly pull you to your feet as if you weigh no more than a rag doll.

“Let’s, uh, go for a walk bunny.”

“N-Now?” Your voice came out shaky again. “I-It’s still dark out.”

J rolled his eyes at you. “Early morning’s the best time for hunting sweetheart _ -t _ . Didn’t your, uh, Lord Flay teach you that? I heard he’s a hunter too.” When you shook your head in response, J continued, pressing his body closer to yours as you leaned back against the wall, his face now only inches from yours. 

“Oh that’s right _ -t _ . He only hunts women in the woods. He sets it all up _ -ah _ . Now where’s the fun in that?” He let out a loud cackle right in your face causing you to jump. He was close enough now that you could see every bump, curl and detail in his scars. J sees you looking at them.

“What happened **_bunny_**? You look scared. Is it the scars?” J’s hand that’s still on your arm grips tighter, while his other hand circles your neck once again, this time his thumb pressing into your jaw.

“You wanna know how I got them? I’ll tell you.” His thumb moves to sweep over your mouth, pressing the bottom lip down. “You see, I had a wife, beautiful, like you.” J looks at you hungrily as your heart rate quickens. 

“She’s friendly with the villagers, with the uh, other men _ -ah _ . She says it’s nice to be friendly _ -ah _ , that I shouldn’t worry so much _ -ah _ . She says I oughta smile more.” J slides his thumb along your bottom lip to the right corner of your mouth, tugging it up into a sideways grin. You shiver as he continues. 

“One day, she goes out alone for a walk in the woods _ -ah _ . Some of the, uh,  _ men _ follow her. They rape her, and cut up her face. She comes home and can’t look at herself anymore- _ ah _ . I just want to see her smile again. So I do this,” J releases your neck to gesture to his scars. “with a razor.”

You feel a pang of sadness in your chest, and your eyes soften. J must see this, and you think you see him smirk when he sees your reaction. That leaves you questioning the factual nature of the story. 

“Now I see the funny side.” J goes on, now a much more noticeable grin spreading across his face. “Now I’m always smiling!” 

Your eyes harden. He seems to be reading the display of emotions across your face and just grins wider.

“Now then bunny, let’s go for a walk _ -ah _ .” He says as he grabs your arm hard enough to leave a bruise and pulls you out of the door.

The air outside is laden with that early Northern morning chill and you shiver, your light blue dress from yesterday clearly not cutting it for the current weather. 

It’s still dark outside but you are beginning to see the dull blue light of daybreak spread across the sky from the east. You can make out the trees around you, and J in front of you, but not much else. You look back for the hut, but it’s already disappeared into the darkness. 

You squint at the ground, trying to look for rocks and branches as you hurry your feet along to keep up with the speed J is pulling you along. He’s just too fast though, and a large rock comes out of nowhere causing you to trip and swear as you fall forward. 

J braces you easily before you hit the ground and chuckles. 

“That doesn’t sound like the, uh, proper language for a princess, doll.” 

“Fuck you.” You say in spite of yourself, and J laughs again. “I think I broke my toe.” J laughs even harder at that, before grabbing your waist and throwing you over his shoulder. 

“Don’t you worry princess, I’ll carry you.” You struggle as he picks up his fast pace again.

“J, put me down!” 

J laughs lightheartedly and gives your ass a light smack. You sharply inhale and blush in the darkness.

“Can’t do that dollface. We need to move fast so we don’t miss the, uh, action.”

You pout and let your head and shoulders slump. There is clearly no use in trying to fight him, and as embarrassing as this situation is, you prefer it to being knocked out because you resisted.

From your position on J’s shoulder, you can see the sun rising behind you and the cool blue light breaking over the forest. As a breeze blows your hair forward and into your face, you smell something delicious and almost instantly pangs of hunger overtake your stomach. There must be a fire somewhere nearby. 

You cry out as J drops you to the ground. 

“Zip it sweetheart. Don’t want to lose the, uh, element of surprise _ -ah _ .” J whispers. You look through the small pocket of trees in front of you to see you are only about twenty feet away from a small fire with four men huddled around it, one of them turning something over the fire. The delicious smell of meat invades your senses.

A clear master at knot-tying, J produces rope from one of the deep pockets of his long coat and quickly devises a binding that ties you standing up to the tree behind you. As the sun further lights up J and your surroundings, you are reminded again how strange his attire is. 

The long coat he is wearing is an incredibly rich, bright purple, and the light leather armor beneath it purple and green. You can’t stop combing over it with your eyes. As he finishes tying you up, he leans back, regarding his handiwork. 

“It’s, uh, not polite to  _ stare _ .” You quickly shift your eyes away, but J grabs your chin and forces your eyes to meet his. “Like my **_style_ ** , bunny?” He says, brandishing the word. “Well, it’s incomplete _ -ah. _ But we’re about to solve that problem right now.” Your quizzical look only makes him smile. “Watch and see _ -ah _ .”

J turns and almost prances through the trees to where the men sit around the bonfire, his hands in his pockets as he saunters over. 

“Good morning gentlemen!” J’s voice rings out and you shake, though you’re unsure if it’s from impending fear or just the morning chill. 

The four men turn as they see J approaching, one of them quickly shifting to his feet and drawing his sword. He looks like the ringleader. 

“Hey, I know who that is. Jared, get your sword out. Jared! That’s --”

J cuts him off as he’s standing right behind the man pointed out as Jared, a tall broad shouldered dirty looking man with a hideous jagged scar going from his right temple all the way diagonally across his face. Jared unsheathes his blade, grimacing, as he makes to turn around and face J.

“Want to see a magic trick?”

You don’t know how long it goes on. The stabbing and bone breaking and _ laughing _ . He never seems to stop laughing. Ramsay hadn’t had you watch him torture his victims, he only displayed their battered corpses on the wall, so this was the first time you were actually watching people die. And die horrifically. 

J looked so incredibly, disturbingly _ happy _ as he decorated each man’s body with gashes and punctures and bruises. He made it last as long as possible, relishing in how they begged for mercy and pleaded with everything they had to offer - their money, their secrets, their wives, their children...before he finished them off, howling as he did. 

You felt nauseous to the pit of your stomach. You had tried closing your eyes during the worst of it, but you couldn't block out the screams, the terrible  _ screams _ . 

When it was silent, you opened your eyes to see the scene in front of you unfold. 

J, kneeling in front of the fire pit, grabbed a handful of now-cool coals and used his fingers to paint large dark, messy circles around his eyes. As he stood from the fire, you noticed that his shoulder was bleeding from where one of the men’s blades had apparently managed to pierce him. 

Reaching into the wound with a maniac laugh that made you cold to the bone, he coated his fingers in the sticky substance before smearing it across his lips and up his scars, painting his face in a cheshire grin.

He shook his head and emitted a loud, resounding and utterly dark laugh before his eyes found purchase on you. He strode over to you with a speed that was nothing short of terrifying. 

He was upon you in seconds, the smell of a fire and blood wafting off of him as one large hand encircled your neck and the other grabbed your sharp hip bone through your dress holding you in place. His face pressed close to yours, his lips only inches away as he spoke.

“Enjoy the show _ -ah _ ?” His voice is deep and dark. You start shaking, your eyes lighting up with fear as you wonder what he’s going to do to you next.

“I asked you a question,  **_bunny_ ** .” He growls when you don’t answer right away. 

You nod your head quickly, but he runs his thumb along your bottom lip and pulls it down, much rougher than he did earlier, before popping his thumb into your mouth.

“Use your words _. _ ”

“I-I liked the show.” You stutter out. J smiles.

“Any, uh, favorite scenes? Because I thought the highlight was slicing up poor Jared, but I’m starting to change my mind _ -ah _ .” J runs the hand on your hip up your side and you feel your skin break out in goosebumps. His hand stops at your breast where he flicks your nipple, poking through your dress and hard from the cold. 

You fidget when he does that, trying to push away the warm sensation gathering in your core when he does. J smirks and glances at your legs, which have pulled together. 

“Looks as though you might agree. Let’s take a look, sweetheart _ -t _ .” 

You can’t stop it this time, as the tingling sensation spreads through you making you squirm and rub your legs together. You push out of your mind the awful fear of what Ramsay would do if he saw you like this. You can’t control it anymore, you can’t lie to yourself, part of you _ wants  _ him to take you. Even after watching what he  _ did _ to those men. You want him. 

His hand dips beneath your dress and runs up your thigh, reaching the line of your panties. His finger lands on the wet fabric, running a featherlight circle around your clit. You can’t stop it before it happens, and a tiny moan escapes your lips.

J stops moving his finger and raises an eyebrow knowingly.

“Just as I thought _ -t _ . You’re soaking wet, bunny.” Your face turns into a pout and you squeeze your legs tighter together around his hand, desperate for friction. J laughs. “How long have you wanted me to touch you [Y/N], _ hmm _ ? How long have you been a little slut for me?” 

He graces you with another circle of his finger before grabbing the line of your panties only to release them, snapping them back against your skin. You struggle against your bindings.

“Don’t, uh, worry doll. I’ll give you what you need _ -ah _ ” J leans in, the frightening black around his eyes and his bloody mouth sending adrenaline shooting through your veins and telling you to run run run. 

But you can’t run, and even if you could, you don’t think you would now. J’s lips ghost your neck, before landing a quick sharp bite to your exposed skin and causing you to let out a sound somewhere between a gasp and a mewl. 

J’s mouth is at your ear now, whispering to you, his breath warm against your skin. 

“I have to warn you though,  **_bunny._ ** I like to break things.” The words have an effect you can’t believe, causing your body to heat up and your voice to come out in a hushed pant.

“I want you to break me J.” As he nips and kisses your neck, you feel him smile against your skin and sigh. It’s a sound that resigns you to your fate. 

That’s when you hear the hounds.


End file.
